


Spare the Rod, Spoil the Child

by TheWhiteSwordsman



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: AU, Angst, Comfort, La li lu le lo, Love, We managed to avoid drowning, joy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-06 23:02:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5434109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWhiteSwordsman/pseuds/TheWhiteSwordsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Solidus actually adopted Jack instead of turning him into a child soldier?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After looking at this:
> 
> http://touch.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=manga&illust_id=53317091
> 
> Can't get enough of this guy XD 
> 
> It really inspired me to write a story about his life if he never became a child soldier. Now, because it would lead to a whole new different story and character issues, I have decided to keep the part where he meets some characters, but will change it. I must have to warn you though, this may or not have a happy ending. (I'm not sure)
> 
> Enjoy

" _Sir! We captured the hostages and killed all of the guerillas!"_

_"Excellent work. Now I want all of the women and children brought to base once were done."_

_"And the men?"_

_"Kill them. They are the enemy, Liberian scum."_

_"Understood."_

And with that, a crack of lightning lit the thunderous sky, lighting every drop of rain that falls to the savanah ground. The storm was intense, it had been this way for the past couple of days.

George Sears, the top ranking officer in the CIA, began to step out of his drenching tent and walk over towards the Jeep that would have been soaking wet if not for the roof that had been installed. He stepped inside and turned the keys, silently cursing at the weather. Why now, in the midst of a war? Luckily  for him, his army had won countless raids and invasions, not only raising a reputation, but also a lot of ammunition and shelter.

On his way back toward base, he wondered what the hostages would do or say this time. If he's lucky, they might might have information of the enemy. Hearing the rain patter on the windshield  almost made George fall asleep. It had been a long day, and it was dark outside. He couldn't wait to return to his room and dive into the soft and comforting embrace of the bed. At this rate, he could probably sleep for days.

Once he arrived at the base, he took no time ino parking his car and making a run for it in the pouring rain seeking the nearest  shelter. He managed to go inside the building where the hostages were, all muffle crying of the women and children. He walked infront of the crowd of people and grabbed a chair, observing each person who was caught. His eyes then came across a child who differed from the rest of the crying children.

 _He is white,_ he noticed. The rest were African children with the same skin color... but what was someone like him doing here? Where were his parents? The boy was curled in a ball probably crying, or at least, that's what it sounded like.

George's concentration broke as a soldier stepped in.

"Sir, here are all of the hostages. 109 children and 42 women. What shall we do with them?"

109 children? What could he do with them? Children have no use except for chores, but that would be a waste of 109 people if he assigned  them the role of cleaning. What could he do? Sell them, kill them? So many possibilities, but so little...

That's it...  _little._

 _He had an idea._ These children are around eight to thirteen if he had to guess correctly. And they do have experience and know.edge of the area... so why not make them into  _child soldiers?_

Was this a bad idea? No, it couldn't be. These children have lost their parents and have no future anyway. And besides, he is doing them a  _favor_ by allowing them to serve the American forces, rather than killing them. It wasn't like anyone would care if they died, they might as well put their lives to good use.

 _If they joined, then we could have a bigger army than before! We wouldn't need to spend more money just to get more soldiers from the government!_ George thought greedily. It was true. With the help of the children's knowledge of the area and the locals, they could have  a huge advantage against the enemy.

"Let's train them into troops and add them to our army," he ordered towards the man next to him, who blinked after hearing the command.

"S-soldiers?" He repeated, making sure he didn't hear wrong. "But sir, these are just  _kids._ What good will they do if they can't even clean the selves?"

George raised his hand up, not wanting to hear anything else. "Trust me, Private. These kids can help us win the war. If they don't follow orders then we kill them. SImple."  He then pointed towards the kid who was crouched in the group of terrified children. "But no that one," he added. "He doesn't need to know the true side of war, he's too young."

"But he's the same age as--"

"I don't care how old he is. I want him here,  _now,"_ he demanded, pointing his gloved-hand finger where he was. He watched the man grab the kid from the crowd, who surprisingly, didn't protest, and brought him to George. 

The boy looked up at him, his sky blue eyes still reflected innocence and hasn't been tainted by the permanent stain of war. His curly, almost blonde hair reach down to his showers as the boy looked up, a face neither showing fear nor courage. Just wonder. Who was this man, he thought. Ah, the mind of a child... refreshing, easy to mold and shape.

"What's your name, kid?" George asked, picking up the boy and setting him on his lap as if he were Santa asking him what he wanted for Christmas. The boy stood quiet for a second, leaving only the sounds of crying children and pleading women occurring in the background.

"I don't know." He mustered. "I... don't remember."

So, he was one of those kids who pretended to forget everything once confronted. Smart. But he wasn't going to need those qualities. He wasn't going to become a soldier, no... he had much  _bigger_ plans for him.

"It's okay, boy." He chuckled, trying to making the child feel comfortable. "I'll give you a new name."

"What is it?" He asked, forgetting the idea of his old one.

"Jack."

The boy grimaced. "It sounds boring."

George was surprised. How old was this kid, five? How could he decide if a name sounds boring? He felt stupid. It was if he was naming a  _pet._ But this kid... he was something special. He reminded him of something.

"Jack is my father's name."he answered. Jack stopped frowning and gave a look of interest.

Now they were getting somewhere.

"Where are my parents?" Jack randomly asked.

 _Damn,_ George cursed. What could he say? This kid wasn't old enough to understand what happened, let alone be abe to take it in properly. He had to think of something fast.

"They left." He quickly said. "They left somewhere and won't be coming back."

 _Great, now you probably broke the kid's  heart,_ he scolded to himself.

To his surprise, the boy didn't frown or cry. He just raised a confused eyebrow. "Why did they leave?"

"Because they had a really important job to do, so they left me to take care of you." He stood up, picking up Jack along with him and straddled him on his side. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. I'll hide you from the monsters and protect you from bad people." He ran his gruff hand gently down Jack's soft hair. The boy rested his head on George's  shoulder, a few tears streaming out since his parent left him. How could they? Did they even love him?

George continued to carry him as he gave instructions to his men. "I'm going to send this kid over to my house and have him cared for there  until I return. When I do that, make sure you tie these people up except the children."

The soldiers gave a nod and watched their commander leaving the building with the child. Many were confused. Why did he save that one child?

 

 

 

To his surprised, the rain had stopped. It was as if it was destiny to find a kid and end the rain. Maybe it was a sign, or just a coincidence. George was sitting in a helicopter with Jack, who admired to ground below him. He kept on staring at the boy as if he were a long lost relative.  This boy was about to face war and lose his innocence. It was so precious, so valuable  and yet limited. He felt like he was putting this boy to a death sentence if he didn't adopt him and take him in as his own son.

Thank God  that he saved him on time. He dodged a bullet this time. Who knows what would have happened if this boy became a child soldier? 


	2. Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to end the story here, but then I played mgs 2 again and got super inspired. I have actually decided to write out a full story on Raiden- no, Jack's new life.
> 
> Oh yeah, and some characters will die. Future warning.
> 
> WARNING: Spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes are a possibility. Even though I look over it, some things hide in the shadows then appear when you least expect it. I apologize in advance for this.

" _Happy birthday, Jack!"_ George exclaimed, then removing The boy's blindfold. They exited the parked  car and stood infront of a huge white building. At first Jack could hardly believe it. He gasped as soon as he looked around him. He saw the beautiful gardens and the large water fountain. The area was vast and green, perfectly taken care off. But it was the building that excited him.  It looked ancient was massive. He felt like he was infront of a King's palace. But he really knew where he was- it was basic knowledge...

The White House.

 He always wanted to go there. There were so many facts about this place.He learned in his social studies textbook that the White House was huge and had over 100 rooms! How did they clean the place, let alone, find a missing item? This place was way better than their house, even though it was fairly large.

"It's big, isn't it?" George asked looking up at the building. He was feeling pretty amazed himself. "This was where our founding fathers ruled this country. Major presidents like George Washington have helped guide America into what it is today." He was still crouching behind Jack, matching his height while having his hands on his shoulders. There he went again, talking about how great the president's were and how awesome America was. It wasn't annoying, but it was kind of bothersome to hear it for _seven years in a row._

"Come on, let me show you what it's like inside," he stood back up and took his son's hand and gave him an encouraging smile, followed by the boy's enthused nod.

 

Stepping inside the building felt like going back to the early 1800s. Almost every room was decorated in fancy curtains and chandeliers that reflected against the glossy floors. Each room had a certain theme to it despite them all having similar style. Some rooms were pink with old portraits of women dressed in elegant dresses and gowns.  To Jack, he thought that all the women were the same person since they appeared to have the same plain brown hair (each having a different and odd hairstyle) and dead expressions with a half-hearted smile. He didn't find any of the women attractive at all, which was the reason why he scowled at the pictures every time he passed a room that displayed such a sight.

They continued to stroll down the massive halls. Jack lifted his head to gaze at the ceiling. It wasn't much to look at compared to the cool designs he saw in Europe. Those ceilings had pictures that told stories and had gold and silver carvings. The one he was looking at now was... well- bland. It did have some carvings onto it, but it was just white and empty. He didn't exactly expect himself to be some art critic or architect, but it he felt a little disappointed. But he had to admit, the chandeliers made up for that. As he passed under a large one he noticed the tiny pieces of glass all showing his reflection like tiny mirrors. The red carpet he was walking on made him feel like a celebrity. Who knew hallways could be so interesting?

 

 After the small tour of the rooms and halls, they traveled up to the second floor and into the office where the president is supposed to work. It was called the Oval Office, and Jack could clearly see why. The room was huge and actually had an oval shape to it. He noticed the giant blue carpet with a logo of an eagle underneath from where he was standing.  He looked back up and saw George walk ahead of him and over behind the desk. The man gazed at it in awe as he ran his hand over the smooth surface as if it were an ancient fossil. Behind him were two flags- one was the American flag and the other was something he never recognized.

"Where's the president?" Jack asked, looking around to see if he would pop out and surprise him. Maybe he wasn't here yet.

George brok his gaze from the desk and caught his focus onto the boy. "Hmm? What was that?" 

"The president- is he here? Are we even supposed to be here?"

The man chuckled and looked around. "Why shouldn't we be here? We are most certainly welcomed."

Jack was still confused. If they weren't allowed here, they would be in big trouble if they were caught. It was still odd for him that there are no other tourists or anyone else in the building. "What if the president were to come here... what would happen then?"

His father let out a full laugh that echoed out the door and throughout the whole building. Jack didn't see what was so funny, especially if they could both be in possible danger. Before he said another word, George cut him off with a raise of his hand so he could let the laughing wear off. Once he was finished, he cleared his throat. 

"You're so silly, boy. Of course we are welcomed here! _I am_ the president of the U.S.A!" He chuckled as his son ran towards him and leap into his arms for a hug. This was a huge surprise- for the both of them. He had always wanted his father to become president, and now it came true.

The man set the boy down on top of the desk and called out towards the door to the room. "You can come out now, he's found out!" Then one by one, the employees whom  Jack assumed were missing, stepped inside the room until it was crowded with people. Suddenly, they pulled out a large banner from behind them and revealed gifts.

" _Happy Birthday!"_ They all exclaimed cheerfully. Jack was shocked. Had George plan this for him? How long did it take to put it together? Jumping off the table, he quickly rushed infront of the crowd to look at the banner. It had big, colorful letters that wrote, "Happy Birthday, Jack!" And it was decorated with race cars, his favorite thing in the world.

"You like your gift?" His father asked behind him, ruffling the boy's light blonde hair. Jack simply stood in awe and couldn't put together any words that could tell him how thankful and amazed his was. All he did was turn around and hug the man tighter, burying  his face into the man's shirt. "Thank you, daddy," he mumbled shyly. The staff awed behind him, especially the women.

It didn't take long until everyone in the room got to share a piece of the large cake that the chefs had brought in. They also brought in wine and other alcohol that Jack was forbidden to have. (But because it was his birthday, George let him have a tiny  _sip_ of the wine)

"To the new president, George Sears!" The Vice president toasted, holding a glass of red whine in the air. Everyone else cheered and laughed along as Jack was sitting at the desk minding to himself, fully concentrated on eating the blue frosted cake. The room then turned into a party that lasted for a couple of hours. Music played and  some celebrities that George knew eventually came. He recieved occasional "congratulations" and hair ruffles from each staff member. Some even gave him another piece of cake, and George- who was either drunk now or didn't care- let it slide.

After the party, nightfall came, and it was time to go to bed. "Aren't we going home?" Jack asked, motioning down the stairs.

George shook his head. "Nope, this is home now. I'll show you your room."

The boy was excited to see his new room, but what about his old room? Will he get to keep all of his stuff? He followed the man down the hall until they both stopped infront of a large blue room with a large blue bed. 

Like any kid would do, Jack anxiously ran inside and leaped on top of the bed. It was so soft and comfortable, much compared to his other, smaller bed. The room was as big as his classroom! 

George chuckled softly and tucked the boy in. Jack yawned and snuggle underneath his sheets. George leaned in and kissed the boy's forehead and said goodnight. He then got up as soon as he saw the boy's eyes close. Right before he left the room, his ears caught Jack's soft snoring.

The man smiled and turned off the lights before closing the door and stepping into his own room, saying goodnight to all of the employees who passed him.

After brushing his teeth he slipped into his night pajamas and went to bed. His room was large too. As he rested under eat the sheets he start at the ceiling. Finally, after many years he finally became president. Now he can make his own mark in the world, go down in history. His dream came true after all. He then thought about what would have happened if he stayed in Liberia with the children. He did have to visit a lot while Jack was being cared for by Ocelot. Ocelot- damned creepy bastard. But he was great with Jack. He somehow knew how to keep him quiet and satisfied while George was training the child soldiers. The man was a gunslinger and had a unique talent with revolvers and other weapons. He also acted strange around him calling him the son of Boss. He knew he was a clone of Big Boss, but Jack would freak out if he found out about him and his other clone brothers- Solid and Liquid Snake.

He wondered how the children in Liberia were doing. There was a boy who was there- he became a killing machine. He was proud of that boy, almost like a second son. The boy was called White Devil because he didn't stop shooting until he saw the whites of his enemies' eyes. In Liberia, George was a different man. He was bloodthirsty and trained the kids by feeding them gunpowder and forcing them to watch action movies. But whenever he came home, he put away his ruthless nature inside a box and played with Jack. The boy would always have a huge smile on his face as he hugged his father's leg.

"Where did you go this time?" He always asked. He loved hearing the adventures his father took part in. Every story was like a legend to be recorded in history.

But George was lying. He knew Jack wouldn't understand what he was really doing. He doesn't even remember being adopted. Yet, that never stopped him from pulling up a chair and taking out a cigar. After a few puffs, a mouthful of lies would gradually intertwine into a convincing tale. Each story was different, and he avoided telling the same one since he would forget about them.

He told tales of him on ships fighting massive sharks and a giant octopus. Many times he spoke of driving tanks in war against the Russians, which was Jack's favorite part, and other days of him skydiving out of a plane and into enemy territory. 

If anyone knew about George and his ridiculous stories they would call it "bullshit" and probably tell the truth. But the way he tells them, puts so much effort in a way one would think he lived to witness the experience.

However, the thought of leaving Jack in Liberia haunted his mind. He couldn't tell if it was either worry or regret leaving pain to crush his heart. Why did he save him? It wasn't like any of the other children were better off to start with. He wasn't the youngest either.

So why him?

Maybe it was because he looked like himself as a child or Liquid, they weren't enemies but they did respect each other by sharing the same hatred for Solid Snake. He knew better than to say that he was the only Caucasian child- he wasn't known to be racist. 

"Dad..." A tiny voice whispered from the entrance of the room. He lifted his head to see who it was, only to make out a silhouette of a small child due to lack of light in the room. 

"Who is it...?" He grumbled, hoping to show a little toughness in case if he were facing a stranger.

As quick as a flash, the figure dashed inside the room and onto the bed, startling the man.

"What the..?!" He jumped, almost falling out of bed.

"Dad, it's me, Jack." The boy whispered with a slight hint of uneasiness.

Quickly recovering himself, the man sat up and released his firm grip on the sheets. "Don't scare me son," he breathed in deeply. "I almost knocked you out there."

Noticing a sniffle come from the boy made him worried. "What happened? Did I scare you that much?"

Jack shook his head and suppressed his tears, emitting a low whine before sniffling some more. " I had a nightmare."

"What was it about?"

"I was in someplace where I was in a poor city with fire and explosions... And then I got captured by some mean African guy with red eyes and a creepy smile..."

"Go on..." The man leaned in. This was something he never heard Jack talk about before.

"A-and... Then some guys handed me a knife and I was forced to... to ki-kill...to kill you." The boy began to cry. George was shocked how such a thought even came to the boy's mind. Then, he recalled the time where he first brought him home and made him watch a war movie, wanting a soldier as a son. He even gave him a small dose of the drug that focuses on violence, but he didn't think it would have affected him for seven years, even if he was given many medicines and therapy that removed the effect. Maybe the trauma of his past came back as a memory in a dream, but he never recalled hearing of Jack holding a weapon. Never.

"Is... there anything else?" The man hesitated, afraid to hear more, but he had to see what was on the boy's mind.

To his relief, Jack stop sniffling and chuckled a bit. "Well, before they made me kill you I turned into a cyborg ninja and killed everyone. Then we went to some cool ice cream place and had hamburgers."

The man snorted. Cyborg ninja? Really? Why not a Power Ranger or superhero?"

The boy shrugged. "I don't know. Sometime dreams are mean and force you to be things you don't want to be. But I guess it came from a cool ninja show I watched and Cyborg from Teen Titans. He was hurt too."

George laughed and patted his son's back. "Come on, you can sleep in here for tonight. But no bed wetting." He then drew the sheets over both of them as he began to lie down in the comforting embrace of the bed.

"I don't bed-wet." Jack silently huffed, then closing his eyes only to have sleep claim over him again.

George was observing the sleeping child's expression. It was so peaceful despite the dried tear stains on his face. He then remembered why he saved him from his forces.

Back when he took the boy home, he saw something rise in the boy's eyes. It wasn't fear nor hatred- it was loyalty. Some form of obligation. The child was so grateful that he escaped from whatever hell he was in, and wanted to repay him for that.

"Jack, I can clean the dishes. Just eat your dinner." He would say as he gently pushed the boy away from the sink and into his chair. He ate everything that was served.

He also recalled the first time when he brought Ocelot to meet him. That was an interesting moment.

"Ocelot, I'd like you to meet my son, Jack."

"Good god, you frightened me. I thought you had Liquid at your side!" The two men laughed, leaving the boy tightly wrapping his arms around George's leg as if he would fly away.

"Hello, kid. Call me Uncle Ocelot." The man bent down to match the boy's height. Jack just gave an unconvinced look and hugged his father's leg tighter.

"What's an Ocelot? What's an 'un-cle'?"

The man was confused. "Well, George," he sighed,"you weren't _kidding_ when you said that you picked him off of the streets." He then looked back down at the boy and smiled. "Let's just say I'm here to take care of you when your dad is gone. And by the way," he leaned in close to Jack's face, "An ocelot is a cat."

"Then where are your ears and tail?" Jack bluntly pointed at him. George busted out laughing. Ocelot just smiled weakly and snorted. Ever since then, Jack and the man became close while his father was gone. He showed him cool gun tricks- using a fake gun, mind you- and let him watch action movies and told tales of how he and George met, excluding the part where George was a clone to his true idol, Big Boss.

Eventually, sleep came to break the man's train of thought. He smiled at the sleeping child and whispered silently, "My loyal little soldier," before falling asleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is supposed to be short, but I might make it longer.


End file.
